GOBLIN HOURS @bestbidani - Tumblr Blog

Anyone who followed me for MCR related reasons, go follow my side blog @dannimustdie

That's where I do my MCR posting

orcarriagesthatwork

I think about this cake every day

tizzymcwizzy

sorry for exposing your tags but this is hilarious

microsuedemouse

OP, I hope you don’t mind me making an addition:

When I turned 17, we ordered a cake at the grocery store for my party, as we’d done many times before. If you wanted something written on the cake you’d write it into a section of the order form. We requested, very simply, “Happy Birthday Courtney”. When we went to pick it up the day of the party, this is what we got.

The bakery employees had absolutely no explanation for this. The order form, attached to the box, very clearly did not contain any of those extra names. Whomever had done the writing was no longer in, so there was no one to ask how this had happened. The fact that the name ‘Juan’ is misspelled bewilders me to this day. (I’ve never seen ‘Miley’ without the E, either, but it’s believable that someone might spell it that way.) Did this cake slip in from an alternate universe where I’m one quarter of a set of Hispanic quadruplets? Dyslexic Hispanic quadruplets, maybe?

This cake became the focal point of my party. At least two of my friends regularly called me ‘Courtney Mily Jaun Pablo’ for years to come. My siblings and I still reference it sometimes, eleven years later. It is probably the funniest thing ever to occur at any birthday celebration of my life, and may well remain so for the rest of my days.

I love a botched cake.

helenarth

one time me and some pals spotted one of those big cookie cakes in a store. it was done up with red icing and little X's for kisses and in the middle it said

No One Like You

now, it took us a while to realise it meant "(there is) no one like you". at first, we all parsed it as a botched "no one like(s) you"

for ages after when we'd wind each other up we'd declare "NO ONE LIKE YOU ☹️👎"

itseasytoremember

I just feel like it's important to post the Sacred Texts

shofarsogood

victusinveritas

bundibird

I'm gonna be honest for a second. I cant believe people still care about Taylor swift.

witha-boxofscraps

This CANNOT be left in the tags you came with RECEIPTS

pocketss

It was important to me that she puts emphasis on the TOK

aty-chii

L having an L screensaver is hilarious to me

imagine some guy named john just having "john" floating around as his screensaver

zolltraak

uncle-beanbag-mojave

We would fully accept any Japanese buckaroo

theconstitutionisgayculture

Foreigners will never understand how someone like Rawhide Kobayashi would immediately become a beloved local fixture in whatever small American town he ended up in.

brazenautomaton

every single time someone pulls the "How would you AMERICANS like it if someone came to AMERICA and" reversal, the answer is always "we'd fucking love it"

not-so-innocent-bi-sander

@kurtwagnermorelikekurtwagnerd

Your tags summed up the exact feeling I had about this

tikkunolamorgtfo

I just Googled the Swedish-Japanese guy in the OP, and according to this interview, his Japanese name was given to him by the master gardener he was apprenticed under:

“The family name ‘Murasame’ was given to me by my master. The given name ‘Tatsumasa’ is a combination of ‘dragon’ (tatsu), the [zodiac] year when I was born, and one character from my master’s name,” says Murasame."

So I think maybe it's less like naming yourself 'Brandon McFreedom' and more like moving to the states to work under a veteran car mechanic named Bud McLean, and then having him turn to you after a few years on the job, and say "Son, it's time for you to become an American so you can open up your shop. And when that day comes, I think the world should know you by a new name: McLeo GM Corvette."

teaboot

Named by his superior by conventions one would apply to a super chill stray cat

milquetoaast

source

so-much-for-subtlety

comment-tube

It's been almost 8 months since you went away. I thought it would get easier with time.

It hasn't.

I still see you out of the corner of my eye. I still feel you brush against my ankles when I'm standing in the kitchen. I still hear your chirps for attention. I still think every black T-shirt crumpled on the floor is you.

I started a new job. I thought it would distract me from the sting of your absence.

It doesn't.

For 8 years, you would greet me at the door after work. You used a different meow to say hello. You would follow me around as I kicked off my shoes and put away my bags. The moment I sat down, you would crawl onto my chest and headbutt me.

After my first day of work, I cried when I came home, because I miss you and our afternoon ritual.

Your sister has picked up the torch and started greeting me at the door. I think she knows I miss you. I think she misses you too.